


Have You A Kiss For Your King?

by WhittyOne



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, NSFW, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 08:12:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5084791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhittyOne/pseuds/WhittyOne





	Have You A Kiss For Your King?

There was a slight but biting chill in the breeze that dusted across my bare shoulders; it pulled me from my deep reverie and sent the forgotten needlepoint draped across my lap drifting to the soft grass at my feet. “Damn,” I muttered beneath my breath, tossing back the thick, fiery spill of my hair and leaning over, catching the corner of the fabric before it could flutter away and force me to rise and give chase. I gazed morosely down at the far from finished pattern of moons and stars, running my fingertip over the few stitches I’d poked into place since sinking down on the bench… moments ago? Hours ago? I really had no idea, nor did I care.

Beautiful as they may be, the gardens of Asgard were no longer the enchanted, majestic place they once had been. How could they be? The heart of all magic had been cut down with one thrust of a Svartalfheim blade, its heir left lifeless and alone on a dark and dusty Svartalfheim plain.

My mother had served the lady Frigga for years before the death of my father stopped her heart as well. Blessedly, my family’s good standing assured I could still grow up with the other future ladies-in-waiting. I was housed in the comfortable servant’s wing of the palace; I received a proper education. And on many an afternoon, I was invited into these very gardens by the woman who seemed more maternal guide and tutor than regal and commanding queen.

Her golden son was bold and boisterous, and all the girls my age swooned and sighed over his rakish grin and athletic prowess. But my heart had always belonged to her bookish boy, with his sooty locks and cerulean stare and his small, secret smile. He paid me little mind those early evenings, caught enraptured as his mother conjured wonders from earth and air, guiding his heart and his hands until it was clear his talent would far exceed hers. In truth, I often felt he looked right through me, as if I were no more than a chair or a table or a column of marble, some insignificant piece of architecture tossed into the landscape with no particular purpose. Until the evening when I stood at the balcony of the empty grand ballroom, leaning against the balustrade and gazing out at the rolling hills of green and golden grass. He came to stand beside me, slender and silent, his shoulder a hair’s breadth from my own. “So lovely,” I’d mused quietly. “Don’t you agree?”

He stared out at the landscape before us a long and silent moment, then gave a quick and graceful wave of his hand. Slowly, on the surge of the evening breeze, the blowing blades began to radiate a rosy glow, until their hue mirrored the exact shade of the locks that tumbled down my shoulders. My jaw hung slack as he turned to me at last, his eyes meeting mine. “I do now.”

His hands were cool against the flush of my cheeks, his thin lips were soft and supple against my own.

_“Loki…”_

How many times I sighed his name as we stole secret kisses and caresses in every corner of the kingdom, his heart pounding against mine, his fingers tangled through my hair. How well I’d learned the curves of his arms, the planes of his back as he held me close. How I’d memorized the soft, wet noises of our lips meeting, parting, meeting again, the crisp and clean scent of his skin, the taste of his tongue and his strong, even teeth.

How bitterly I’d wept when news of his demise crept quietly through the grapevine of soldiers and servants. I’d not even begun to heal from the death of his mother…

Another gust of the evening’s descending chill pulled me from my mournful thoughts, and at last I pushed myself wearily to my feet. Gathering the gauze of my skirts in my fist, I set myself back on the path to the palace, dropping polite nods and curtseys to the few citizens I passed along my way. The guards at the door paid me little mind, and while the scents and sounds wafting from the dining hall were warm and inviting, the thought of cuisine and company made my stomach twist in misery.

The hallways were stony silent as I made my way towards the east wing where my own chamber waited, private, small and snug. But for some reason, on this night, I froze at the fork in the hallway, my feet stubbornly rooted to the ground. I closed my eyes, drew in breath. Before I could cast my thoughts to why, I’d turned left instead of right, following the corridor to the private staircase that led up to the rooms where the royal family resided.

I knew as soon as I rounded the corner that the wing was abandoned. Of course it was. Odin would be in his chair in the main hall, dining and drinking with the lads and ladies, the soldiers and the sentries. Thor had been gone for ages, honoring his duties to the Midgardians a thousand leagues away. And nothing was left of the remaining residents but lingering spirits, melancholy memories. I crept slowly to the door at the end of the hall, the ebony edifice closed and sealed.

_Why in the world are you here, stupid girl? It’s most likely locked up tight…_

And yet, when I placed my hand on the polished brass knob, it turned with ease. The heavy wood swung back with a conspiratorial creak, and tears filled my eyes as the air from within dusted over my cheeks.

_Loki…_

Cool, crisp, the smell of spice and snow and secrets. The emerald and ebony curtains were bound back, allowing the rising moon to spill its light across the lush, golden carpet. Bookshelf upon bookshelf upon bookshelf lined the walls, each laden with leather-bound volumes; I had no doubt their owner had read every word printed on the pages within. A broad, sculpted desk heavy with papers and parchment and pens of every manner, lines of different languages, drawings of swirls and shapes both mystic and magnificent. The four-post bed was impeccably dressed with linens of silk, and across the room, the wardrobe doors hung ajar.

The thick plush swallowed the sound of my footsteps as I moved towards it, my breath hitching shallowly in my chest. My needlepoint fell forgotten from my hand as I reached out to touch the soft cotton, the heavy leather, the tunics and trousers, the capes and cloaks. They all felt of him, smelled of him; I could almost hear his whisper as my fingers skated from one, to the next, to the next. My throat suddenly thick with tears, I closed my eyes, let my head fall back on my neck.

_Loki… my love…_

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?”

The voice was hoarse and harsh, a bark that made me gasp in shock and fear as I spun on my heel. “Allfather…”

He filled the doorway with irrefutable power and command, his icy stare gripping me and rooting me to my spot. His hands fisted briefly at his sides before he took a step into the room, then another, the door clicking ominously closed behind him. “I asked you a question, girl,” he gruffed angrily.

“I-I-I,” I stammered blankly. “I’m sorry, Allfather, I don’t… I didn’t…”

“You may have served the Queen as handmaid,” Odin sneered, “but the Queen has been gone for quite some time.”

“Yes… yes, sir,” I nodded nervously, lowering my head in deference and swallowing the bile that rose in the back of my throat. “I’m so, so sorry…”

He took another step towards me, smirking a bit as I took a reciprocate step back. “I’m certain you are,” he sniffed. “The death of your mistress renders you little more than a common courtier.” I tried not to flinch away from the slight, but was largely unsuccessful. “So I am forced to repeat my question, little fool. How dare you intrude upon the private quarters of an Asgardian prince?”

I couldn’t keep the flash of anger out of my eyes as I lifted them to his once more. “Asgardian prince? Is that what you called him when you sentenced him to the cells in the bowels of your kingdom?”

“I called him a criminal,” Odin spat mercilessly, “which is exactly what he was.”

“And whose fault was that?”

My voice was sharp, shrill, my hands clapping over my mouth a heartbeat too late to stop them. I felt the earth tilt beneath my feet as my imagination began to spin, wondering what horrors my treasonous words had just bought me. But after a heartbeat of silence, the king’s shoulders slumped, his majesty deflating in a heavy sigh. “I made many mistakes with Loki,” he muttered at last, turning away from me to stare out the tall window at the darkening sky. “If you wish to lay the blame for the destruction he wrought at my feet, I doubt there is much I can say to change your mind.” I swallowed hard as he followed the path of the stars outside with his gaze for a long moment before speaking again. “You miss him.”

I closed my eyes, nodded wordlessly.

“You loved him.”

I choked back a tiny sob, blinking my sorrow down my cheeks in wet, weary streaks. “I did.” Once the tears came, I found them impossible to stop, and my shoulders shook silently as I wept. “I love him still.”

“Oh, my child…” One firm, strong hand came to rest on my shoulder, and I allowed Odin to draw me to his chest. “My dear…” He held me for long moments, rocking me gently, stroking my hair as I cried into his armor, accepting his odd comfort with uncertain gratitude.

When the tide of my tears began to ebb, I shifted a bit awkwardly, expecting to be dismissed and sent on my way. But, seemingly oblivious to my discomfort, Odin kept me in the crook of his arms, his calm, steady breath breezing across the skin of my forehead. Slowly, a tickle of unease began to spread through my belly as one large hand left my hair to caress its way down my bare shoulder, his fingertips just breaching the line of my gown at the edge of my back. Swallowing hard and then sniffling resolutely, I lifted my head, attempting weakly to pull away from his embrace. “Allfather,” I murmured quietly, “I thank you for your kindness…”

“Shhhh, my dear,” his voice was a tender growl as his hold on me tightened. “It’s quite all right."

“Allfather,” I whimpered as one hand closed on the back of my neck, the other sliding up to caress beneath my chin. “Please…” My lips trembled against the rough pad of the thumb he traced over them.

“Sweet little love…” Coarse, aged gravel smoothing out to silky self-assurance, a glow of green suddenly radiating out from beneath his beard, and I gasped as realization dawned. “L-L-Loki?” A warm, velvety chuckle I’d know anywhere. “Good evening, my darling. Have you a kiss for your king?”

Salty grey hair turned to black in my fingers as I clutched at him, drawing his mouth down to mine. Sweet, savage, hungry lips and teeth and tongue, and I was falling, floating, lifted in his arms, carried to his bed. Impossibility, insanity, and I couldn’t have cared less. He lay me down, covered my body with his own, mouthing a line of fire from my lips down along my jaw to the hollow beneath my ear. “Pretty little love,” he purred through a lusty grin, “how I’ve missed your supple sweetness…”

“Loki…” I moaned low in my throat as his long fingers teased their way over my breast, squeezing firmly, his thumb flicking over my nipple as he bit down on my earlobe. “I thought you dead…”

His silky snicker tickled its way to the center of my brain, making me shiver. “Death will have to be much quicker to catch me, my love.” He pressed one muscular thigh into the cradle between my hips, drawing a whorish moan from deep within my throat. “I’m having far too much fun to slow down now.” He caught the shoulder-strap of my gown and dragged it down, baring the flesh he’d been teasing to his lips. “What say, my sweet? Care to join me in a bit of mischief?”

“Oh, Loki,” I sobbed, curling my fingers in his hair as he suckled firmly at my swollen, aching peak, his touch still restlessly playing beneath the layers of silk and satin of my gown. “Loki…”

“That’s it, my darling,” he encouraged, delving down to the wet, slick cleft between my legs. “Cry out to me, pray to me, worship me, and I will give you all you’ve ever desired and more.”

“Loki,” I whined, clawing at the leather and metal that covered his back and shoulders. “Please, my love, please…”

His laugh was sweetly sinister; with a flick of his wrist, we were bare against one another, my soft and yielding curves molding to his long and lean planes of hard muscle and smooth skin. The wet heat of his mouth found mine once more, and he growled into my lungs as my own seeking hands found the throbbing column of his cock rising to grind against my belly. “Oooh, curious little coquette, aren’t you?” He sat up with a sinful grin, his fingers curling firmly into my hair. “Have a good look, precious little pet, see what I’ve had waiting for you all these nights apart.” His eyes slid closed in ecstasy as I wrapped my fingers around him, marveling at the softness of the flesh that slid easily over muscle hard as iron. He rocked a bit within my grasp, and I couldn’t help but lick my lips at the sight of the shimmering fluid that pearled from the slit in the center of his flushed head. “So eager for a taste, are you?” His voice was full of hearty approval, and I moaned quietly in reply as he shifted above me, one knee on each side of my head. “Open your mouth, pet,” he purred, “and you shall have one.”

Terror and longing swirled into one delicious cocktail, soaking my brain and leaving me dizzy, delighted. I obeyed his command, shivering at the salty tang that sank into my tongue as he pushed between my lips. “Yes, gorgeous girl, yes,” he urged, his voice tremulous as I craned my neck to take him deeper, and deeper still. “Ohhh, suck me, my dear… gods, yes… just like that…” I moaned against his thrusts, working every muscle of my mouth around him on instinct as he battered his way deeper and deeper, the aching discomfort a balm for my heart that had hovered numb in my chest. Tears sprang to my eyes as I coughed and gagged around him; his lips curled in a sensual smile as he smoothed them down my cheeks, his hips pressing ever harder against my body’s reflexive resistance. “Come now, pet,” he hummed enticingly. “You should know by now I would never let the dark take you from me. Not when there’s still so much pleasure to be shared.” He squared his shoulders and raised his head, gazing down on me with regal command as his hands gripped the hair at the back of my skull. “Relax,” he crooned, “and give me your throat.”

I whimpered weakly beneath him, trying desperately to breathe deep through my nose, to will the tension from the stubborn muscle and cartilage fighting to keep him out. But for each heartbeat of calm followed three of near panic, and before I could stop myself, my hands were scrabbling at his thighs in a frantic attempt to push him back. “Ah, ah, ah, darling,” he tutted, amused. “I didn’t ask for your hands…” A flash of green and gold, and long, slender fingers grabbed my wrists; my eyes blew wide and my jaw fell slack as twin images of the dark deity I adored pulled each of my arms taut, their calm and curious eyes watching in fascination as they pinned me to the mattress. “Oh, there’s a good girl,” Loki chuckled above me, his hands on my head pressing me to the exact angle he desired. “Be still now…”

Overwhelmed, frightened, and more aroused than I’d believed possible, I did as he bade, tearing air in and out through my nose as he thrust, slow and smooth. I hovered, transfixed by his icy blue stare as he memorized the sight of me frantically serving beneath him; I whimpered softly in gratitude when he stroked a gentle hand over my cheek. My name fell from his lips, heavy with worship, and a proud shudder wracked my body as his head fell back on his neck. I fluttered my tongue against the thick vein that ran from his base to his crown, and triplet voices groaned in appreciation. The duplicate to my left fell to kissing the inside of my wrist and arm while the one at my right sucked my fingers into his mouth one by one, mimicking the ministrations I poured out upon our master with impressive accuracy. A sensual giggle bubbled trapped in my chest as we played, a strange, second-hand transfer of self-pleasure, until a tug at my scalp returned my focus to where it belonged.

Pale and perfect, he smiled down on me, my great and glorious corruptor, full of power and pride. “Darling little pet,” he cooed, his tone deadly quiet, “what drives you to serve me more? That submissive, surrendering nature of yours?” He pushed deep, filling my mouth and throat until my every muscle quivered with a fiery ache, only to pull free with a wet pop!, letting his engorged and dripping length come to rest between my heaving breasts. “Or,” he purred silkily, “could it be,” his hands pushed them together so he could rub his throbbing shaft between their curving swells, “that dark and desirous heart of yours that beats so perfectly in time with my own?” I mewled helplessly, deliciously embarrassed, unable to stop the hungry darts of my tongue, so desperate to taste him again when his thrusting head neared my mouth. “Oh, yes, pet,” he growled through his grin, “you were made for this… _for me_...”

The copy at my left seemed to have learned from my enthusiastic response to his twin at my right; I could feel his groan rumbling over my skin as my fingers in his mouth stroked playfully against his tongue. The warm wet tug around my digits was dizzying; I barely noticed my captors’ grips tightening as Loki rose up enough to shift his weight, moving down my body to settle on his knees between my legs. “Such a lovely little blossom,” he purred as his fingers dipped between my labia, spreading them wide, his tone warm with approval. I shivered as the cool evening air hit the damp that glistened on my folds, gasped as he tickled his touch over every trembling petal. “How eagerly you bloom for me, pet, and such sweet nectar…”

He lifted his hand to his mouth, his gaze burning through me as I watched him lick my essence from his skin. Half-mad with wanting him, his name stuttered from my mouth in a bleating sob. “Loki…”

“Patience, pet,” he intoned darkly, his hand returning to stroke teasingly over the intimate flesh once more. “You always were the fairest flower in the garden.” He flickered his fingertip over the tiny nub at the apex of my sex, the spot my own hands had sought out on so many nights after he’d gone, and my hips bucked reflexively at the sensation. “How long I’ve dreamed of plucking you up, having you as my very own.” He shifted, and I moaned his name again as the molten heat of his still swollen cock pressed against the seam of my body. “Have you dreamed of it too, love?”

“Yes, Loki,” I nodded frantically against the pillow. “Yes, my lord… yes…” He rocked against me, parting my lips, hissing softly through his teeth as the fluids of my desire left his own skin slippery slick. “Have you _ached_ for it, pet?”

“Yes!” I cried out, wantonly fraught and not caring a whit. “Yes, my lord… please…”

His fingers dug into my hips as he leaned over, ghosting his mouth over mine, letting me taste the lust in his words. “There’s a good little girl,” he whispered. “ _Beg_.”

“Please, Loki, please,” I babbled through the salt welling in the back of my throat, blinking against the sting of tears. “Please, my love… take me! I’ve wanted you for so long… I’ve missed you so desperately! Please, Loki, take me… make me yours…”

Our mouths crashed together in a storm of teeth and tongues that even Thor himself could not have hoped to govern. I could taste the honeyed wine he’d sipped with his supper, the spicy secrets in his breath, the coppery heat of the blood from my broken lip. I could feel him positioning himself between my thighs, pressing firmly against my tightly drawn entrance, the hands of his doppelgängers holding me down with renewed force.

_But why…? I’ve no intention of resisting…_

As if he could hear the fleeting thought that dusted across my brain, he smirked, the tip of his tongue swiping at the split in the center of my lip. “Oh, my precious pet,” he snickered, “so much to learn…” With that, his jaw clenched, his hips rolled, and his clones groaned his pleasure into the sweat-scented air as he made us one.

I expected brutal, tearing, searing hurt – why else would he conjure duplicates to restrain me, if not to prevent me from fighting the agony? But in that moment, he enlightened me to one of the universe’s far more dangerous secrets: that seductive delight is often the more overwhelming force to surrender to, the more consuming, more terrifying. For it was not pain that led me to strain against the strong hands that held me down, my head thrown back in a soundless shriek, my eyes rolled to their whites behind my lids. It was pure white-hot ecstasy, a feeling of _yes_ and _more_ and _whole_ and _**finally**_. Stretched, strained, my muscles quivered with a most delicious ache as he forced them to the shape of his cock, their churning, tickling flutters vibrating up through my belly and down through my legs that drummed helplessly against the mattress.

With a velvety growl, Loki reached down, catching me behind one knee, around one ankle. Pulling me against him, spreading me wide, he began to undulate against me, each thrust punctuated with the smallest hissing grunt of satisfaction. I struggled to free my hands from his copies, desperate to feel him, to grab him, to hold him to me, but they barely seemed to notice, their lips and tongues continuing to tease their way over my flesh as they stared hungrily at the display before them. I could feel the reticence of my maiden modesty draining from my brain, waves of unashamed wanton need crashing in its wake; I flashed a wicked grin at my deceptive king as his own gaze crawled over my bouncing breasts. His dark laughter echoed between my ears. “There you are… my perfect little playmate…”

The air I had gulped in was torn from my lungs as he moved, quicker than lightening, making my head spin. Once I’d regained a hint of balance, I realized he’d lifted me, spun me round, and was now invading me from behind. His hands held mine up behind his head as his mouth devoured my neck, and his replicas… They knelt before us on the bed, the raven silk of their hair feathering against me, one nursing ravenously at my breast as the other suckled sweetly at the sensitive bud between my legs. Moan after whorish moan fell from my lips as they touched, tasted, probed, and plundered, and before I knew it, the intensity that had been building inside me from the moment of my lord’s first kiss began to coalesce into an unbearably tight coil behind my navel. It made every nerve in my body scream with longing, every line of sinew and ligament drawn and taut. I knew he could feel it, and after one exquisitely sweet bite to my lobe, Loki pressed his mouth to my ear, his fingers tangling with mine in the hair at the base of his skull. “Take the pleasure I offer you, sweet pet,” he rumbled, low, husky, “and come for your king.”

My brain had no sense of what that command entailed, but my body never missed a beat. My screams of elation filled the room as I exploded inside my skin, surge after surge of unbelievable frenzy flowing from the spot where he filled me, up, out, on and on and on. He snarled his approval, and my eyes flew wide as he erupted liquid heat inside me, as my fingernails raked at his scalp, as I thrashed uninhibited against him. And as the passion that gripped us slowly spiraled down, I could hear myself sobbing his name, over and over, in broken thanks. “Loki… Loki… Loki, my love…”

The world was shifting once more; his still rigid length slipping from me as he lowered me into the embrace of one of the twins. I knew it wasn’t him, and yet, it was: the same fiery blue eyes, the same self-assured grin, the same warm, nimble tongue that played impishly between my lips. I was just beginning to melt into the kiss when he nudged himself into the dripping wet space our master had just left, sending a jolt of fearful surprise through me and making me struggle in his arms. “Shhhh, pet,” Loki’s palm stroked soothingly down the length of my spine. “Relax.”

“But I… he isn’t… he can’t…” I stammered timidly.

“Oh, but I am, love.” The voice against my throat was the same, the chuckle rumbling against my chest identical to the one that vibrated against my back.

“He is.”

_“We are.”_

An uncertain whimper stuck in my throat as one mouth bit at my right ear, the other suckling the skin in the hollow of the left. “Loki…”

“Trust me, my darling. Take the pleasure I offer you…”

I’d barely closed my eyes in consent and the body beneath me moved, thrusting up while pulling me down, and I wound my arms around the double as he fucked eagerly into me, his cock grinding against every singing sweet spot his creator had awakened just moments before. His hands tangled in my hair as he dragged my lips to his, eating at my mouth as if he could consume me whole. I could feel the heat of Loki’s satisfied stare as he watched our coupling, and it sent a decadent shiver through me that made my lover beneath me howl in delight. Smiling into his kisses, I began to match the thrusting rhythm of his hips with twists of my own; Loki cooed my name in reverent praise as we rutted shamelessly against one another.

I was chasing the promise of another thrilling climax when he moved, his hands gripping the swells of my buttocks as he slowly and cautiously breached the tightly drawn entrance between them with the head of his cock. The pain was far from unbearable, but the shock of the intrusion snapped my head up on my neck. “My lord!” I gasped as the clone beneath me tightened his arms around me, holding me still.

“I told you, my love,” Loki’s timber was strained, the words bitten out through tightly clenched teeth as he carefully bore down against my resistance. “Trust me, and take the pleasure I offer you.”

“But… but… _my lord_!” That last a squeal of pained desperation as his hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back until his words could burn directly into my brain.

“Do not make me say it again, pet.” I whined in grateful fear at the dark command that dripped from each syllable. “You… are… _mine._ The one I coveted, the one I conspired to have, the one I clawed my way back from the bowels of the galaxy to see seated beside me and screaming beneath me. You gave yourself to me ages ago with the moons and the magic and my mother as witness. You cannot, and you _will_ not, deny me, deny _us_ , now. _You are mine_. And I shall have you as I will.”  I trembled violently as he pushed forward, inch by calculated inch, blackly terrified by my deep and burning desire for more.

And oh, was I right to be terrified.

The sensations that washed over me when he and his clone were seated fully inside me were the most potently powerful I’d ever felt in my life. Stretched nearly beyond limit, filled to the brim, shaking and shuddering as they rocked and pistoned in concert, in opposition, slower, then faster, then slower once more. Hands stroking through my sweat-soaked hair, cool, curious lips caressing my flushed skin, teeth tugging at my taut, aching nipples, fingers tweaking and twisting my swollen, slippery clit. I should have hid my burning cheeks in shame as Loki’s want and wizardry reduced me to nothing more than his wicked, wanton plaything. Yet every time I began to doubt, his voice was there to drown out my hesitation. His husky, melodic timber wrapped so sweetly around craven affirmation; my name, murmured over and over, prayer and praise. Kisses from him, then his twin, and then the third reappeared at my side, and I sucked him into my mouth, starving for the taste of his cock against my tongue.

Hours it lasted, the minutes marked by the wet, wanton sounds of skin meeting skin, of lips tangling and parting, breathy sighs and gravelly hoarse groans. He used me well, every hole I have, stroking and stretching with the perfect gentle-rough touch that brought me to my pinnacle again, and again, and once more, until the thought of another unbearably delicious culmination left me weary, begging for his mercy. His seed was dripping from me as he slid free at long last, climbing up the bed to kneel above my open and waiting mouth. He was glorious to see, a thing of dark and majestic beauty – sweat beading over his high, proud brow, his angular jaw clenched in determination as his fist worked over his length. His free hand held my head as I gazed up at him in frank and utter worship, and I lapped hungrily at the warm, sticky sweet jets of his final release that splashed over my lips and chin. He tasted of ice and fire as he sealed his mouth over mine, and I pressed my spent and shaken form into his arms, trusting him to catch me as I collapsed sleepily into the darkness that beckoned.

We were alone in his bed when I woke in his embrace, the golden sunlight of the late Asgardian dawn warming our bodies beneath the thin silk sheet. The world took its time coming back into focus, my mind still reeling from such a wondrous turn of events in so short a time. Every inch of me groaned and sang with the most magnificent aches and pains, and I shivered at the stickiness that coated the inside of my thighs as I shifted them carefully against his leg. I let my fingers piano lazily over the ridges of his ribs, make their way through the small patch of downy hair between his nipples, down to trace the winking cup of his navel. I bit down on an impish grin as I watched the outline of his flaccid cock twitch with mild interest from under the linens, and turned my face up to shyly meet his eye. “Good morning, my lord.”

The dusty shadows cast by his dark lashes vanished as his eyes opened slowly, languidly, his breath flowing in then whispering out in a deep sigh of self-assurance and fulfillment. He held me in his burning blue gaze, his own flushed and kiss-swollen lips curling in a smile both predatory and protective. His palm slid up my arm, his fingers tangling in the crimson waves that spilled over my shoulder and across his body.

“Good morning, my love,” he gave them a gentle tug, his voice full of sleepy feline satisfaction. “Have you a kiss for your king?”


End file.
